


In a Cold Season

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, First Time, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-10-18
Updated: 2000-10-18
Packaged: 2019-05-30 09:04:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15093551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Donna catches Josh's cold while on a fundraising trip to New York.





	1. In a Cold Season

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

Title: In A Cold Season

Summary: Donna catches Josh's cold while on a fundraising trip to New York.

Author: Jennifer 

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I don't own them. I just like to have fun with them. Please don't sue me. I have no money.

Random Thoughts: I hope you don't mind, but I have several stories that I started before the season finale and therefore they don't mention Josh getting shot. But I'd like to post them just the same. I hope you enjoy. Feedback is greatly appreciated.

 

In A Cold Season (1/3)

I'm sitting on Air Force One with my head against the window, staring out into the dark clouds. Sometimes I think it's amazing that I'm allowed on a plane with the President of the United States. Like, someone will pinch me one day and I'll wake up to find it was all a dream, and that I'm really a waitress at a Dunkin' Donuts in Podunk, Iowa.

I think I'm coming down with a cold. I keep putting my sweater on and taking it off and I just can't get comfortable. It's a short flight to New York for this fundraising dinner over the weekend and everyone around me is talking quietly or dozing. My eyes keep watering and when I close them I feel kind of dizzy.

If I get sick, it will totally be Josh's fault. He was sick all last week, but refused to stay home, claiming that his position was too important to not put in "face-time" in the office every day. Leo finally yelled at him to take his face, and his runny nose and his scratchy voice home and not return until he could speak without sneezing on people. Josh stayed home all of that afternoon and was back in the office the next morning. I think he over-medicated himself though, because I found him wandering the halls with an empty cup with a tea bag in it. He claimed he was heading to get some hot water, but he was miles from the coffee maker.

If I catch this cold, I'm taking a few days off just to get back at Josh. As if reading my thoughts, Josh plops down in the seat next to me.

"Donna, Toby was just asking me about HR 386. Do I know anything about this resolution?"

"Josh. I gave you the background on that. It should be in your bag." I sneeze.

"Bless you. But my bag is way over on the other side of the plane and if I go get it, I'm sure Toby will corner me again with more questions. I don't think I can fool him twice with my vague statements," he practically whines, loosening his tie and fighting with me for the arm rest. "Can you just fill me in?"

"Joshua, Toby is never fooled by you," I say, pushing his arm back off the rest, because I'm mad at him for making me sick.

"Hey, I happen to be incredibly gifted in making people think I know what I'm talking about." I sneeze again.

"Bless you." Josh must finally realize something's wrong, because he straightens up and studies my flushed face and glassy eyes. "Are you okay?" he asks, raising a hand to my forehead.

His cool palm feels so good on my forehead that I close my eyes, not answering him.

"Donnatella. Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?" he asks, cupping my cheek.

"I wanted you to suffer horrible pangs of guilt when I die from this stupid cold you gave me."

He smirks. "You can't die from a cold."

"That's not what you kept saying last week when you were wandering the halls infecting everyone and telling us how you had to wrap up your projects because you were near death."

"Well, I have a very sensitive system. I wasn't sure I was going to rally," he says, standing up and shrugging off his suit jacket. He reaches over and covers me with it. "Don't go anywhere," he smiles, walking away.

I close my eyes. For some reason the warmth from Josh's jacket is making me sleepy. I inhale deeply, or as deeply as I can, and I detect the faint scent of Josh's cologne.

I'm starting to drift off when I feel Josh settle back next to me. "Donna?" he whispers.

"What?" I snap back. Being sick brings out the worst in me. I hate feeling helpless.

"I have juice," he says penitently.

"You infect me and all you bring me is juice?" I say, opening my eyes. "I expected an offering of diamonds or at least cash." Josh rolls his eyes and opens the juice.

"The juice is better for your cold. I don't see how diamonds or cash will help you in the least."

"Well, I could enjoy them after I get better."

Josh rolls his eyes again and pulls out some cold tablets from his shirt pocket. He puts a straw in the juice and holds it under my mouth. "Drink."

I do.

He pops the pills out of their packaging and hands them to me.

I look up at him. "Cyanide?"

He smiles again. "Sudafed. I'm saving the cyanide for when you really annoy me."

I put them in my mouth and he gives me more juice. After I swallow them, I put my head back against the seat and sigh.

Josh tugs me against him, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. "Go to sleep Donnatella."

I fall asleep almost instantly, listening to Josh's heartbeat.

***

I follow Josh and the rest of the senior staff in a haze of cold medicine off the airplane and to our cars. Even though I'm sure Josh is supposed to ride with the President to finalize stuff for tomorrow, he rides in the second limo with me, letting me sleep on his shoulder again as we drive through the New York traffic to our hotel.

Though we're all checked in and our rooms are ready, Josh waits for the President to get through the lobby, before walking in with me. He deposits me on one of the lobby's couches. I just want to go to bed and he puts me in the lobby? He's been sweet and all, but if he thinks I'm going to wait for him down here while he schmoozes someone in the hotel bar, he's got another thing coming. I start to get up, telling him I'm going to my room, when he gently pushes me back down. I'm too tired and woozy to resist. I try to put on my angry face, but I sneeze and ruin the effect.

He smiles. "Bless you. I'll be right back," and he heads towards the check-in desk.

I zone out for a few minutes and then Josh appears in front of me again. I follow him to the elevators. I study my reflection in the mirrored elevator doors. A gray sweater set was not the wisest choice for someone on her deathbed. The sooner I get to my room, the better.

"Josh, give me my key. Go to your room. I'm sure you've got to go meet with the President. I'll be fine."

"Our rooms are right next to each other. I want to be sure you actually make it to your room and don't pass out in the hallway or end up thinking the housekeeper's closet is your room and sleeping in a cart full of dirty towels."

I scowl at him, which is again ruined by a sneeze, and meekly follow him off the elevator. He opens my door and lets me go in first. Josh tosses both our carry-on bags onto one of the beds, while he pushes me towards the other bed.

The sight of the bed makes me incredibly sleepy. I sit down, watching Josh opening the door on my side of a connecting room. I crawl up over the bedspread to the pillows, when Josh catches me.

"Wait a second, Donna," he says, pulling back the covers and pushing me under. He pulls off my shoes and then wraps the covers around me. He walks into the bathroom and I hear the water running. He brings a glass of water and puts it on the bedside table.

"I hate being sick," I mutter, when he places his hand back on my forehead.

"Hey. I'm none too thrilled either. I'm supposed to be hanging out with the President, you know, looking important, making deals, wielding power. But instead I'm babysitting my sick assistant."

"You made me sick. It's not my fault," I whine. I whine? I actually whine in front of Josh. Ugh! I hate being sick.

Josh takes his hand off my forehead. "Do you have any aspirin in your bag? I think you have a fever."

"You think I have a fever? I want a second opinion."

He smirks at me, sitting on the other bed, riffling through my bag. He pulls up a bottle of ibuprofen. "I'm not a real doctor,but I play one on TV."

"So, when I die, my parents can't sue you?"

"Nope," he says lifting me up to wash the pills down with some water. I'm exhausted just from that small task. "Go to sleep

Donnatella," he whispers and I'm vaguely aware of his hand against my cheek.

I hear him leave the room, but then I hear the other side of the double door into my room open. He got us adjoining rooms? Normally, I'd read something into that, but now I'm just mad that I couldn't stay healthy for another 24 hours.

At some point, I must have fallen asleep, because I wake up and it's dark. For a minute, I don't remember where I am and I panic. But then the scratchy bedspread rubs against my face and I remember. My head really hurts and my mouth tastes funny. There's a light shining from the bathroom door, which has been left open a crack, and I follow the light to my suitcase. It must have been delivered and it's been opened for me. I find my makeup bag, where all my toiletries are, and shuffle to the bathroom. I'm momentarily blinded by the light, so I decide to keep my eyes closed.

I manage to find my toothbrush and toothpaste blindly, and I assume I get some paste on the brush. I lean against the counter and slowly brush my teeth. I have to open my eyes to find the sink to spit, but when I do, I realize I'm not wearing the same clothes I went to sleep in. Oh my God. Please tell me that Josh didn't put me into my pajamas. Isn't that crossing the line? Am I angry that he might have seen me naked while I was unconscious or am I pleased that he was sweet enough to make sure I was comfortable….Wait a minute! Am I wearing decent underwear? I feel my shirt and realize my bra is still on and I vaguely remember putting on a matching sky-blue set this morning. I'm going to kill him, if I ever feel strong enough to do anything more than sleep!

I start shuffling back to bed, leaving the bathroom light on behind me and the door cracked open a little, when I walk into something solid. Or should I say someone solid.

"You okay, Donna?" he asks in a sleep gravelly voice, putting his hands on my upper arms.

"Geez! Josh. Don't do that." I had totally forgotten that we had adjoining rooms. I sneeze again. He must have left the door between our rooms open.

"Bless you. Do what?" he asks with a little laugh."Prevent you from stumbling around your hotel room in the dark and walking into walls?"

"I was not stumbling. I was brushing my teeth."

"With your eyes closed?"

He was watching me brush my teeth? Exactly how long has he been standing there?

"I had to brush my teeth and the light hurts my eyes."

Josh laughs as he steers me back to the bed, holding the sheet up so I can climb in.

"Josh?"

"Yeah," he asks, starting to tuck the sheets in around me.

"Um...my pajamas...how did I...I mean did you...?"

He's quiet for a moment. "I had CJ come up. Is that okay?" he whispers, sounding nervous.

I take a deep breath. I'm not sure if I'm glad or disappointed. "Yeah," I say and sneeze. He hands me a tissue and pulls the bedspread to my neck.

"Ow!"

"Ow?" he asks, putting his hand back on my forehead.

"This bedspread is itchy." As soon as I say that, I'm wondering why. These weird thoughts keep popping into my head and then out of my mouth. It's like being sick has turned me into this complaining, whiny annoyance for Josh, when I'd much rather be his saucy, seductive assistant whom he had to undress. See? Where did that thought come from? Thank God I have enough sense not to let that one out of my mouth.

He laughs. "Okay." He takes the glass off the table, walks to the bathroom to refill it and comes back with more ibuprofen.

"Donna? Here take these."

I do.

"Go back to sleep," he says, brushing the hair back from my face. I feel like I have to say something suave to make up for my idiotic bedspread comment.

"Thanks Josh. You don't have to take care of me."

"Of course I do," he whispers back, kissing me on the forehead.

I feel all hot again, but drift back to sleep before I can tell Josh that I don't want the itchy bedspread on.

****

"Donna?"

I hear Josh's voice in my head, but it's like it's far away. I roll over.

"Whad?" I whisper, realizing my throat feels like sandpaper.

I open my eyes to find Josh in his suit kneeling by my bed. "Good morning, sunshine," he says with a smile.

"Shud up," I say, sounding both nasal and hoarse.

"I see that the patient's disposition is only getting worse," he says, brushing my hair back from my face. I hope he kisses my forehead again. See? Where did that thought come from? Ugh! Have I mentioned how much I hate being sick.

"Id's your fauld," I say, trying to swallow. "By throat hurds."

"I know," he smirks. "Remember? I gave you this cold."

I shoot him my evil look, and for once I don't sneeze and ruin the effect. "Id dknow. Amd I'm not speaking do you."

"I have Halls Mentho-Lyptus cough drops," he says, dangling the bag in front of my face.

"Jerk," I say, as he laughs and unwraps a drop.

"First, take more medicine."

He helps me sit up and I take two more cold tablets with some juice from the mini-bar. "Whad time is id?"

"A little before 8," he says, handing me a cough drop. "I have to go with the President this morning. Will you be okay?" he asks,suddenly seeming earnest.

"Judst leabe me aloned so I can die."

"You're not going to die. I pulled through and you have a much stronger system than I do," he laughs, bringing the remote to the table, as well as a big box of tissues.

"I hade you," I say, running a hand through my hair. "I neeb a hair scrunchy."

"You don't hate me," he says, handing me my carry-on bag from the other bed. I rifle through it until I find a ponytail holder. He watches me pull my hair up off my neck. I rest my head against the headboard when I'm done, closing my eyes.

"Will you be okay? I'm going to have CJ come up later and check on you. Maybe Margaret can come by too."

He seems to be planning my entire day with visitors.

I get whiny again. "Jodsh. They'dll just keeb waking de."

"What?" he laughs, looking at me like I'm speaking a foreign language.

I shoot him another look, but this time I do sneeze. "Go awad," I say, sliding back under the covers.

Josh studies me for a few more seconds, then pulls my carry-on in his lap and puts my cell phone on the bedside table. "You call me Donnatella, if you need anything."

"Dno. Ib nod speaking do you." I shut my eyes.

"Okay," he laughs again. "Feel better," he whispers, tucking the blankets up over my shoulder. I feel him run a hand down my cheek and then he kisses my cheek.

I open my eyes to look up at him. He looks genuinely worried. I give him a weak smile. He smiles back.

End Part 1

  

  

  

  


	2. In a Cold Season 2

Title: In A Cold Season

Summary: Donna catches Josh's cold while on a fundraising trip to New York.

Author: Jennifer 

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I don't own them. I just like to have fun with them. Please don't sue me. I have no money.

Random Thoughts: I hope you don't mind, but I have several stories that I started before the season finale and therefore they don't mention Josh getting shot. But I'd like to post them just the same. I hope you enjoy. Feedback is greatly appreciated.

**Note** My computer is really acting up tonight, so I apologize for the weird extra spaces and hard returns! Stupid technology! :)

 

In A Cold Season (2/3)

Throughout the day, several people come visit.

CJ brings me peppermint tea, telling me that Josh paged her four separate times to remind her to come up and visit me.

Margaret comes up to eat her lunch with me. I'm not very hungry, so I sip some juice, while she tells me that Josh made her promise to come find him after lunch to tell him how I was feeling.

I take a nap until Sam comes with a tray of toast and some more tea. We watch cartoons while I pick at the toast. Sam tells me that Josh went to the wrong meeting room and when no one else was there, had to call Sam to figure out where he was supposed to be. Now I feel guilty for being sick and not reminding Josh where he's supposed to be. Then I start sneezing and remember that I'm mad at Josh. It's not like the room name wasn't written down in his schedule book. I can't hold his hand forever.

After Sam leaves, I take another nap and a shower, because I hope the steam will loosen my chest. I'm running a comb through my hair when I hear Josh's door open and something flop onto one of the beds in his room.

He peeks into my room. "Hi."

"Hi."

"Feeling better?" he asks coming into the room.

"No," I mutter, fighting with the comb in my hair. Sometimes I just want to cut all this long hair off and not deal with these constant tangles.

Josh stops in front of me and holds out a teddy bear.

I look up at him. I suddenly feel like crying. "You bought me a teddy bear?"

"The best the hotel gift shop has to offer," he says, handing me the bear and taking the comb out of my hand.

He sits behind me on the bed and starts working the snarls out of my hair. No one's bought me a teddy bear since high school, when Tom Franks gave me one when I got my drivers license.

"Thanks, Josh."

"You're welcome," he says. I sniff, but it's not from my cold. He's being so gentle with my hair. Making sure he doesn't tug too hard.

"Don't you have to get ready for tonight?" I ask, putting a hand up to my throat as I rasp.

"In a bit," he whispers back, reaching around to hand me my tepid tea. I sip and give it back to him.

"You'll behave yourself tonight, right?"

"Hmmm," he says, obviously struggling with a particularly nasty tangle.

"I won't be there to rein you in. You have to be nice to these people."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes."

"Okay, but I'm using you as an excuse to leave early."

"Joshua," I say in my most exasperated voice.

"Donnatella," he mimics my tone. "Sure you don't want to come tonight?"

"I can't. The tissue box doesn't match my dress."

He laughs, running the comb through my hair once more. "You missed big fun this afternoon."

"I did?"

"Yep," he says, pushing me forward so he can get up. "Be right back."

He walks into his room and returns with a shopping bag.

"We went to the Statue of Liberty."

"You did?" I'm disappointed. Everytime I've ever been to New York, it's only been for business and I've never seen the Statue. Figures the one time the Statue is on the official itinerary, I'm not able to go.

"But," says Josh, smiling as he dumps the bag onto the bed in front of me. "I got you souvenirs." The bed is littered with green foam Statue of Liberty hats, several t-shirts featuring the Statue, three books about the Statue and a packet of postcards. I feel like crying again. Instead I just look up at him.

"Well, I knew you'd never been and I didn't want you to feel left out," he says,plopping the foam hat on my head. "See, you can read the book, which the President assured me is filled with annoying little bits of trivia, and it'll be like you were there."

I smile at him. I'm amazed. "Thanks Josh."

"You're welcome. Now remember, I bought you all this stuff, so you can't annoy me all the factoids."

I smile again, flipping through the postcard book. I feel embarrassed all of a sudden. Josh buying all this stuff for me…it's so sweet and so…something else that I don't even want to think about.

"Um," he says, undoing his tie and heading back towards his room. "The First Lady will probably stop up to see you."

"What?" My voice sounds like a screech. It's one thing to be sick on an official trip, but I can't have the First Lady seeing me like this. "Josh!"

"I'm sorry," he yells from his room. "But she was there when I was buying you all this stuff. She just wants to be sure you don't have a fever anymore. I told her I thought it was a good idea."

"Josh! I don't want anyone to see me sick," I whine. Ugh! I'm whining again.

"Why didn't you just tell her I was already dead?" I sigh, flopping back on the bed, which only makes my head all stuffy.

"I've seen you sick. CJ, Margaret and Sam have seen you sick. Why not the First Lady?"

"Because she's the First Lady," I stammer back. I'm getting confused by my own argument.

"She's also a doctor," he says, walking back into my room with his tux on. "Can you do my bowtie?" he asks.

"Why should I? You've invited half the nation up to visit me on my sickbed and you got me sick in the first place." I try to sound mad, but I cough and sneeze again.

"Bless you," Josh says, handing me the box of tissues. He smiles that puppy dog smile and I can't resist.

"Come here," I sigh. "Maybe I can reinfect you by breathing on you."

He laughs, but kneels down in front of me, while I sit on the edge of the bed. He puts his hands on my thighs and I feel hot and woozy again. My hands are shaking too much for me to do a really good job with his bowtie, but it's passable.

"Thanks Donnatella," he says, reaching up and feeling my forehead again. He cups my face in his hands. "You feel cooler."

No. I feel much warmer all of a sudden and I'm at a loss for words. And I'm never at a loss for words.

Someone knocks at the door and Josh pushes away from me to stand. I scramble back under the covers, pulling off the green foam hat at the same time. I push all the assorted souvenirs into a pile on my bed.

"How are you feeling, Donna?" the First Lady asks, setting her medical bag on the table next to me. "Josh has been driving everyone crazy all day making sure you were well taken care of."

"He gave me this cold. He should be more repentant," I say, opening my mouth while Abbey puts a thermometer under my tongue. Josh rolls his eyes at me from the end of the bed where he stands.

"Oh, I believe Joshua has already been punished. The President shared with Josh all the ins and outs of the common cold and how it easily gets transmitted from one person to the next," she says, pulling the thermometer out and looking at it. "I believe he'll think twice before coming to work sick again."

"And believe me. I suffered for every excrutiating minute," says Josh.

"Good," I say back.

"No fever. That's a good thing," Abbey says, feeling the glands in my neck. "Does your throat hurt?"

I nod.

"Well, I think we can safely say that you are the first person Josh has infected and probably not the last," she says, shooting a glance at him.

Josh has the decency to look sheepish.

"I want you to gargle with hot salt water and drinks lots of fluids. I'll check on you in the morning."

I sigh. "Thank you Mrs. Bartlett."

"You're welcome dear. I'll have the kitchen send you up some soup." She pats my leg and then notices all the souvenirs.

"Josh, how many t-shirts and hats can one woman wear?"

"She's never been to the Statue of Liberty," he says, blushing.

"Well, then wasn't it sweet of you to bring her every souvenir ever made?" she says, winking at me.

I feel my face flush. From the cold or the First Lady's insinuations, I don't know.

"Get some sleep," she says, getting up and smoothing her hands over her dress.

"Josh, perhaps you could escort me to the party?"

"Okay," Josh nods, lifting his head from where he'd been studying the carpet.

"I'll wait outside," says the First Lady, winking at me again and heading out the door.

I'm tired all of a sudden and scrunch down in the sheets. Josh gathers the Statue of Liberty souvenirs from the bed and puts them back in the bag.

"Josh?"

"Yeah?" he asks, leaning over me, tucking the blankets in.

"Thank you for all the souvenirs and the teddy bear," which I pull out from under the sheets. It seemed like a private gift that I didn't want the First Lady seeing and teasing Josh about.

"You're welcome, Donnatella. I'm sorry I made you sick."

"S'okay," I say, feeling my eyes sliding closed. "Have a good time tonight."

"I doubt it. You won't be there," is what I think he says, but I fall asleep and could have just dreamed it.

End Part 2

  

  

  


	3. In a Cold Season 3

Title: In A Cold Season

Summary: Donna catches Josh's cold while on a fundraising trip to New York.

Author: Jennifer 

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I don't own them. I just like to have fun with them. Please don't sue me. I have no money.

Random Thoughts: I hope you don't mind, but I have several stories that I started before the season finale and therefore they don't mention Josh getting shot. But I'd like to post them just the same. I hope you enjoy. Feedback is greatly appreciated.

**Note** My computer is really acting up tonight, so I apologize for the weird extra spaces and hard returns! Stupid technology! :)

 

In A Cold Season (3/3)

When I roll over the next morning, Josh is sitting up in the next bed watching TV. I feel remarkably better. My nose is still stuffed, but my throat doesn't hurt anymore.

"Hi. How do you feel?" he asks, when he notices I'm awake.

"A little better," I say.

"Guess what?" he asks with that mischevious smile that always signals that either he's done something stupid that I'm going to have to clean up or he's done something that he thinks is really cool, but really isn't.

"What?" I ask yawning.

"We don't have to go back today with everyone else. You and I, Donnatella, have been given today and tomorrow off. We're not due back in the office until Tuesday."

"Really? Why?"

"Why do you sound so suspicious?" he asks, smirking at me.

"Well, nobody ever gets a day off, so I'm assuming you did something stupid at the party last night and the President is so angry with you that he can't bear to see your face on his airplane today."

"I'm insulted," he scoffs, getting up and bringing me a juice from the mini-bar.

"Thank you," I say, sipping the juice. "Why are we off, really?"

He looks sheepish again. "I think you could say we've been quarantined."

I close my eyes and snort. "You were sick and infected me and now people don't want to be near us?"

"Yeah. I guess Toby's nervous that too many staffers might be out during the next few weeks when we've got our new domestic agenda to push through. He tried to convince Leo that I should be burned at the stake, along with everything I've touched, but Leo's suggested we just stay behind a day and rest."

"So, if they're burning you at the stake, what did Toby suggest they do with me?"

"You're obviously more valuable to them than I am because Toby only suggested that you be sealed in a plastic bubble until you felt better."

I laugh. "He probably wouldn't have even cut air-holes in it."

"Probably not," Josh laughs with me. "So we have two days in New York. What do you want to do, Donnatella?"

I debate what to say. It's obvious that Josh doesn't want to sit around watching me sleep and I do feel a little better. Maybe whatever Josh has planned won't be too taxing. I don't usually like to give him options, because he tends to take the reins and run with it, but I'm too tired to come up with something on my own. "I'm assuming sleeping and watching TV is out of the question…"

He shoots me a pleading look.

"So, what do you want to do?" I ask, smiling at him from my bundle of sheets.

"Ever been to the Guggenheim?"

"No."

"Me neither. Want to go?"

I love museums, the stillness, the hushed conversations between people, the beautiful artwork, the sleek floors, but I know Josh hates them. And he hates them for exactly the reasons I love them. I study his face. Does he really want to spend the day at the Guggenheim? And if he does, is it just because he knows it's something I'd like to do?

"You do realize that the Guggenheim is a museum, right? An art museum, I might add."

"Really?" he asks, looking perplexed. "I thought it was a stock car race track."

I look at him. "You're not funny. Do you really want to go?"

"Of course," he says, leaving it at that.

I study him again. He seems eager. Is it just eagerness to get out of the hotel or is it something else?

"I'm not ready."

"Okay," he says, seemingly content to watch Sunday morning TV.

"I'm going to take shower, okay?" I say, sliding out of bed slowly. I get a slight head rush when I stand, but Josh holds out his hand to steady me.

"Maybe we should just stay in," he says, peering up at my face worriedly.

"No. You said we'd go to an art museum and I'm holding you to it," I say wandering over to my suitcase. I find some jeans and a sweater buried under the cocktail dress that I was supposed to wear last night.

I stand under the hot water for a long time, breathing in the steam and washing the sticky, sick feeling off my skin. When I think I've sufficiently steamed the bathroom, I throw on my clothes and start towel-drying my hair. My comb is not in with my other shower things and I remember that it's on the bedside table where Josh left it yesterday when he got the snarls out of my hair.

When I get out of the bathroom, Josh is standing there with not only the First Lady, who did say she'd check on me again, but the President is there too.

"Could you have taken a longer time in the shower?" asks Josh, shooting me a look that lets me know that he's been standing there getting his ear talked off by the President about the dangers of the common cold.

"Sorry," I mumble. I'm embarrassed to be standing in front of them all looking disheveled with wet hair.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," says the President, as the First Lady steers me to the other bed. "But I think Josh getting everyone sick is the perfect opportunity to talk about how easily things like this can be passed when you work in…"

"Jed. The girl is barely recovered. Let's not give her a relapse with your pontificating on the finer points of the common cold," says the First Lady, smiling at me as she checks my throat.

"Well, maybe Donna's not recovered enough, but I think Josh is," the President says, smirking up at Josh, who looks decidedly pale. "But I'll save the rest of that lecture for when he gets back."

He winks at me, and Josh blanches again.

"I think you're fine," says the First Lady to me. "Just take it easy the next few days. In fact, it wouldn't be out of the question for your boss to give you a day off when you get back," she says turning towards Josh.

"Of course," stammers Josh.

"Thank you for coming to check on me," I say to the First Lady. "You're welcome. If you don't feel really better tomorrow or the next day, go see your doctor when you get home."

"Okay," I say, feeling like this is the part of the doctor's visit when you get a lollipop.

"We have a plane to catch Abbey," says the President standing up. He hands me a bag. "This is a get-well gift from the First Lady and I." I open the bag. It's a magnet of the Statue of Liberty, but it's 3-D and really nice, in a cheesy kind of way. I look up at him.

"Well, Josh already bought you everything else. This was all that was left."

I smile, feeling a flush rush up my face and when I look at Josh, he's studying the carpet again.

"Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome. See you both Tuesday," he says starting to head out.

The First Lady says goodbye too and Josh walks them out. I reach for the comb and start combing my hair, because if it starts to dry before I've worked out the snarls, I'll never get them free.

Josh comes back and doesn't say anything. We settle into an uncomfortable silence. I don't want to be the first one to say anything and I know Josh won't.

"Why don't we have some breakfast sent up and then we can go?"

Well, there's a first time for everything, I think, as I stare at Josh.

"Okay," I say.

He heads into his room and I hear him calling room service. I sit on my bed feeling excited and nervous all at the same time. Two days with just Josh appeals to me in a way I'm not sure I understand. But it also makes me extremely nervous and I don't understand that either. It's like, all of a sudden, without the office environment or any official business, we don't know how to act around each other.

By the time Josh gets back into my room after showering, the room service has already been delivered. There is enough food to feed four or five people. All I wanted was toast and I pick at that.

Josh seats himself in front of a huge omelet and I can barely watch him as he also eats cholesterol-inducing sausage and bacon. He smiles up at me.

"Donna, you've got to eat something more than just toast."

"I'm not hungry, Josh."

"Yeah, but you will be and I'm not going to buy you a seven dollar sandwich in the museum cafeteria."

"Like seven bucks would kill you," I say, picking at the fruit he pushes in front of me.

"Humor me," he smirks back, drinking more coffee.

I manage to eat two pieces of toast and some cantaloupe, while Josh finishes off a blueberry muffin. "Ready?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say getting up.

Josh makes me take two more cold tablets before we go and he hands me a huge wad of tissues, which I stuff in my jacket pocket, while he stuffs his pockets with more tissues and cough drops.

The museum is deserted and I'm pleased. I study the map because I want to be sure we don't miss anything. That's the way I am in museums. I plan out the day so that I'm not worried that I'm missing something in the next room. This way I can take my time. I figure Josh won't want to slowly wander, he'll probably want to drag me through as quickly as possible, so I make note of the pieces I really want to see. However, I'm surprised when we wander through the exhibits at a slow pace.

We talk quietly in front of the pieces I like, and I make Josh tell me about the pieces that interest him. Otherwise, we don't really talk at all and it's nice. Really nice. And I'm wondering if it's just the cold medicine that's making me feel light headed when the room we're in is invaded by a tour group. It's a small room and Josh pulls me against him with an arm at my waist as the group files into the room. They pretty much take up the whole room and Josh takes my hand to lead me through the group to the next room. When we get there, he doesn't let my hand go.

We wander through a few more rooms until I have to sit down because my eyes are watering and I need a cough drop. Josh is patient, giving me his tissues when I use up all my own. When I'm ready to go, he reaches for my hand and I tangle our fingers again as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

Eventually we find ourselves in front of several traveling Chagall paintings. A few of my absolute favorites are here, like "Lovers in Blue" and "The Two Heads" and "Les Maries de la Tour Eiffel." There's something almost magical about Chagall's paintings.

I squeeze Josh's hand to let him know that we're staying here for a few minutes.

"What do you like about this one, Donna?" he asks in a quiet voice, staring at one of the paintings.

"It makes me feel like I'm floating," I say. "I think Chagall painted with a sort of possession. Like he was trying to take people to other worlds. All his paintings seem enchanted to me."

Josh squeezes my hand in response and we study the picture for a few more minutes before moving on. We walk through the remainder of the rooms and I feel so tired that I don't protest when Josh suggests we head back to the hotel for a few hours.

***

When we get back to the hotel, I put on one of the t-shirts Josh bought me at the Statue. I must fall asleep for a few hours and when I wake I think it's the middle of the night, but it's only 7:30. Josh is splayed out on the other bed watching the TV with the sound turned low.

"How do you feel?" he asks. "Better," I say sitting up. "I'm kind of hungry." His eyes seem to light up. "That's a good sign. Want me to bring you the spoils of the mini-bar?"

"Yes, please," I laugh.

He loads up his arms with food from the fridge and dumps it between us on the bed. We share some raisins, animal crackers, small cheeses of the world, and some juice. I take more cold pills and Josh eats half of a chocolate bar but pockets the rest when I tell him I'm too full. He looks at me skeptically.

"Do you really feel better?"

"Yeah. I feel okay."

He smiles and rubs at his eye, a habit I notice he has when he's nervous or frustrated. "Do you wanna go someplace with me tonight?"

"Where?"

"It's a surprise," he grins.

I sigh. "This isn't going to be like the time you dragged me out of the hotel during the campaign because you thought you saw Elvis, is it?"

He smiles. "There was alcohol involved there. I can't be held responsible for that."

I smile back. "Okay, well, what about the time you made me go with you to that restaurant where all they served was wild game."

"You didn't like your ostrich burger?" he asks, putting on his best affronted face.

"Josh."

"Donna. Tell me those weren't some of the best times you've ever had." They are, but I won't admit it. "If those are my best times, I'm better off killing myself now, because I'm sure it's all downhill from here."

He laughs again and gives me his pleading puppy dog look. Ugh! Why do I fall for that every time?

"Okay," I say, sighing and falling back against the pillows.

"Don't sound so enthused, Donnatella," Josh says, jumping up to put on his shoes.

I sit up, pulling on my shoes. "I'm just wondering where you're dragging me in the middle of the night, Joshua."

"You said you'd go. I hardly call that dragging."

"Whatever."

"Ready?" he asks.

"Uh huh," I say, pulling on my sweater over the t-shirt.

"Don't you have a heavier sweater?" he asks glancing at my clothing.

"No."

"Wait here," and he disappears into his room. He comes back carrying a bulky sweater of his.

"Wear this," he says holding it out to me.

"Josh. It's huge," I say. "Where are we going? Alaska?"

"No," he says shaking the sweater at me. "I just don't want you to be cold."

I sigh and take off my sweater. "It's not itchy, is it?" I ask, pulling his on over my t-shirt.

"What is it with you and itchy things?"

"I have sensitive skin," I say shrugging the sweater on. It's a little big, but it is warmer and it does have the light scent of Josh's cologne on it.

"Better," he says, helping me put my jacket on. I still as he reaches his hand between my neck and my hair and carefully pulls my long hair out from the coat. He runs his hand down the long cascade of my hair and puts a hand in the small of my back.

Josh steers me gently to the door, waiting for it to lock before leading me to the elevator. We ride down silently and walk through the lobby into the brisk evening air. Josh lets the doorman hail a cab and once we're seated tells the driver our destination.

"The Statue of Liberty?" I'm excited. I'm going to see the Statue of Liberty. And at night. With Josh, no less.

"Yes," he says, resting his head on the back of the seat.

I smile at him. I'm tired. I'm chilled. But there is no where else on Earth I'd rather be than with Josh speeding in a cab towards the Statue of Liberty.

We're silent during the trip. I study the lights of New York out my window.

Although I'd been in New York at night before, I usually was in a hotel at a fundraiser or campaign stop and had never really been out in the evening before. As I crane my head left and right trying to take it all in, I feel Josh's eyes on me.

As we pull up to the Statue of Liberty/Ellis Island ferry, the place looks deserted. I look questioningly at Josh, as he pays the driver and scoots across the seat to follow me out of the cab.

Josh just smiles and grabs my hand. We walk away from the official Statue of Liberty ferry launch, which is closed, and head toward a big building in the distance. We thread our way through the street vendors, the homeless and the business people still straggling home.

He leads me up a circling ramp, until we get to the entrance of the building. The words "Staten Island Ferry" are written on the glass. Josh holds the door open and then takes my hand again, steering me towards the ferry entrance ramp.

"Josh?"

"Hmm?" he says, looking at me with that mischevious glint in his eyes.

"What's going on?"

"Shh. You'll see," he says, as we walk up the gangplank onto the ferry.

The ferry is nearly deserted. There are only a few people seated and one small group of teenagers sprawled out across the benches.

Josh pulls me up the stairs behind him and we step outside to the benches wrapped around the upper level of the ferry. Josh finds a relatively clean space of bench and we sit down.

I shiver and Josh squeezes my hand tighter. "Josh, what's on Staten Island?"

"Nothing," he says.

I smile at him. "So, we're just going to ride the ferry boat back and forth until one of us succumbs to motion sickness?"

Josh smirks. "No. Be patient. You'll see."

The ferry boat horn blares and with a slight lurch, the ferry is underway. It is a clear night and the side of the boat we're sitting on gives us an unobstructed view to the stars. Though, the city lights brighten the sky too much to make out the stars, I pick out the edges of a few constellations.

The wind picks up and I shiver again. Josh lets go of my hand and wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me towards him. I shiver again, but this time it's not from the cold. I turn to look at him and he reaches his other hand up and brushes the hair back from my face, resting his palm against my cheek.

"Josh?" I breathe, but am silenced by Josh's lips pressing softly and quickly against mine.

"Look," he whispers into my lips, motioning with his eyes over my shoulder.

My nerves, which are already firing from Josh's kiss, jump even quicker when I look out over the water and see the Statue of Liberty, all lit up.

"Wow," I whisper.

We both sit in silence as the beautiful statue glides by.

As the moments tick by, I start to get nervous. What exactly was Josh saying by kissing me and bringing me to ride this ferry in the middle of the night?

I scoot up on the seat, craning my head to look at the statue, but also to put some distance between myself and Josh. His nearness and all my questions are making me dizzy.

Josh leaves his hand on my neck as I move away.

Not one to let an uncomfortable moment just hang there, I say the first thing that comes to my head, "Did you know that there's some debate about what exactly the seven points on the crown represent?"

Josh laughs. "Donna…."

My teeth are chattering, but I keep talking. "Some people think they represent the seven seas…"

"Donna…"

"But others say that they represent the seven continents."

"Donna…"

"And don't even get me started about the debate over what the 25 windows in the crown represent."

"Donna." Josh says, putting his hand on my shoulder.

"What?" I whisper, sniffling as I watch the water rush past now that the statue was out of view.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" I turn to look at him.

He looks at me sheepishly. "I'm sorry I kissed you." He brushes the hair from my face again, and then his face softens again and he touches my cheek. "No, I'm not sorry I kissed you. I am sorry I kissed you without asking your permission, though."

I'm watching his face during all this and shivering, but I still don't think it's from the cold. "Josh?"

Josh stands and pulls me into his arms. "Let's go inside and warm up." I nod and follow him into the cabin. We sit at a bench along the windows. Josh sits across from me and holds my hands in his, rubbing them between his.

"Donna. I'm sorry for kissing you and…"

I smile at him and interrupt him. "I thought you weren't sorry."

Josh looks confused for a second. "No, I'm not sorry. Um….I just meant…I didn't want you to think…"

"It's okay, Josh," I say, pulling my hands out from his and wrapping them around his.

"Donna?" Josh asks, looking sheepish again. "When we get back to DC, would you consider going on a date with me?"

"A date?" I ask wide-eyed. I'm still shocked from Josh's kiss that it's all I can do to repeat what he says.

"Yes, a date. I'm tired of tip-toeing around this thing between us."

"This thing between us?"

Josh looks up at me, uncertainty written all over his face. "Um, maybe I misspoke…I just thought…"

I silence him with a finger to his lips. I smile. "Shh. I know."

Josh's face flushes. "Not funny, Donnatella. I was thinking I was going to have to throw myself overboard to prevent myself from making a fool of myself in front of you."

"You've made a fool of yourself hundreds of times in front of me. Why would it matter this time?" I tease.

Josh laughs with me until he leans across the aisle to me. "Donna. Be serious for a minute. Do you think we could do this? Because I want to try."

"Being together? You want to try being together?" I ask incredulously. Josh wants to be with me? With me? All this time I've been pining for him and he's been pining for me? I feel lightheaded again.

"Yeah," he says, grasping my hands between his and brings them to his lips.

He must see the shock of what he's said in my eyes. "I know you're scared. I'm scared too. But you and I…there's something here that I'm tired of fighting." He takes a deep breath and studies my face again. "I've fallen in love with you and I don't even know when or how. It just happened and things like that don't just happen to me. I'm notorious for plotting and planning how to woo a woman, but you just slipped under my skin somehow."

I raise my eyebrows at him. "Woo a woman?"

He blushes.

"So, you're not going to woo me?" I ask, disappointed.

"I didn't say that," he says, lifting my fingers to his lips again.

I sniff and feel my eyes watering again, but it's definitely not from my cold. He hands me a tissue and then a cough drop. "So, do I have your permission to woo you, Donnatella?" he asks when I'm sufficently recovered.

I smile at him and my eyes start watering again. "Yes," I whisper. I raise a hand and trace his cheek. It feels so right to touch him. He places a kiss on my palm and slides over to sit next to me.

The ferry boat has stopped on the other side, but we don't even notice. Josh is too busy mapping my face with kisses.

"Josh," I sigh.

"What?" he asks from my temple.

"You're going to catch my cold."

He laughs and breathes over my lips. "I don't care." Then his lips descend on mine.

We ride the ferry back and forth most of the night, but we don't look out at the statue again.

THE END


End file.
